There are more than 200 people in the venue, all of them are section leaders in the county.
On the rostrum, there is an old leader who is speaking. Regardless of the image of his speech, or the content of his speech, he is like a gentleman, a man of high respect-snow-white hair, rosy face.
But I remembered the scene of a banquet many years ago.
At that time, the leader was still the deputy secretary of the county party committee and was in charge of propaganda. That night, it was a banquet hosted by the county party committee to entertain the cultural people of the county.
The old leader was only in his forties, and he was in his prime. So the wine was especially drunk. He sat there, people toasting on all sides stuck to him like flies around a piece of meat, not knowing how much wine he drank.
Then when everyone went to respect a leader, the deputy secretary slipped out of the crowd and stood to drink tea.
I was sitting far away, watching a group of cultural figures dancing around in a drunken crowd. Everyone has a rare opportunity to drink the wine of the county party committee, and they are drinking themselves to death.
The deputy secretary took a few sips of tea, put down the cup, and walked to a female reporter sitting alone at the table.
This female reporter is very good. She is also a reporter, editor and anchor in the TV station. She is divorced and now has her children alone.
The deputy secretary walked behind her, held her face with both hands, and held it a few times.
I was quite shocked, this is a public occasion.
After the deputy secretary gave the female reporter a few faces, he left without incident.
I looked straight at the female reporter.
The female reporter also looked at me, her face was expressionless, but now she turned pale. Then, she hurriedly opened the purse, took a cigarette out of it, lit it, and spit out a long plume of cigarette from her mouth to the ground.
Now, watching the old leader on the stage speak with respect, I remembered a chat with a female reporter five years later, and then we became very familiar.
I asked her, what do you think in your heart when the old leader looks at you? Inner ecstasy? Flattered?
She said, wrong! I was scolding him in the most vicious language in the world.
I said, for example?
She said, for example, one of the sentences is, you a bastard who cuts off offspring and grandchildren, hope you have 30 kinds of cancer in your crotch! ! !